


Takeoffs & Landings

by shortystylee



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Modern AU, based on a (sort of) true story, small appearances by the rest of the Stark clan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-23 22:29:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1581722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shortystylee/pseuds/shortystylee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chance encounter in the Kings Landing airport sets off a string of meetings. ModernAU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

_If you could go anywhere right now_  
_Where would you go?_  
_And would you miss me when you get there?_

            -The Ataris, "Takeoffs and Landings"

 

XxXxXxX

 

Casterly Rock International (CRI)

Kings Landing – Baelor the Blessed International (KLB)

Braavos (BRX)

Slavers Bay Tri-City (AYM)

Winterfell Regional (WFL)

 

The list was much longer than that and she could name them all. She couldn't remember the last time since she'd started this job that she hadn't spent a week without visiting any number of the airports across Westeros or Essos. She was signed up for the Targaryen Air frequent flyer club and easily made the highest level mileage status after her first year, not even needing to count all the extra miles she got from the credit card that came with the account.

 

This week she'd been across the Narrow Sea in Pentos, meeting a folk banjo and fiddle duo after one of their local gigs. If the act impressed her enough, she would meet with them again the next day, do a little bit of buttering up in the form of alcohol, dinner, and mentions of signing bonuses. If they were game then she would call back to the office that night to set up the next meeting and have her legal people meet with them, since at this point they normally wouldn't have their own people yet.  
  
This trip also included checking out a speed punk band and catching up with another girl only a few years older than her whom she'd met on her last trip and was not yet convinced of signing.  
  
_Probably afraid of selling out_ , she thought, knowing she was right. She'd been doing this long enough now to know which acts would be easy and which would not. This girl, with her mousey brown dreads full of wooden beads, long skirts, and tiny set of bongo drums she carried constantly strapped to the side of a canvas backpack would be difficult. But, gods be good, she had one of those tenor raspy voices of a singer-songwriter who'd seen it all, someone like Janis Joplin, and she hoped this one wasn't a junkie. _She looks at me like I'm the Man though_ , she thought, remembering their first meeting. Arya didn't like the way that thought tasted at all. _I don't even dress like The Man!_ It was true, the standard uniform for her was jeans and a t-shirt with the company's logo, which she normally paired with slip-on black Vans and a some sort of blazer, hardly a hard-assed corporate look.  
  
In the end, the Joplin doppelganger had agreed, at least partially. Arya had met her halfway and invited her out to the offices in Kings Landing to meet some more people, maybe talk to some other artists, see what the atmosphere is like. The music scene was aching for this type of artist and she meant to do whatever she could to give it to them.  
  
That was exactly what she was typing in her report when the loudspeaker came on.  
  
"Ladies and gentleman, we're now starting to make our final descent into Kings Landing Baelor the Blessed International Airport. At this time, please shut down all laptops and other devices such as iPads and tablets...."  
  
_Blah, blah, blah, something about seat backs and tray tables, it's 84F outside and the local time is 11:32am. I could do their jobs better than they could half the time, if only I was tall enough to reach the overhead bins._  
  
She saved her report to USB, shut down her laptop, returned it to her laptop bag and slid it back under the seat in front of her. Kings Landing was usually her final stop. It didn't necessarily please her, it was too humid in the summer and the people were all rude and in a hurry, but she loved her job and even as stubborn as she admitted to be, she was okay with a sacrifice or two for the sake of a job she loved.  
  
Today was different. She had a layover at KLB for a little over two hours and then she would be heading back home to Winterfell for just the weekend - her parents 30th wedding anniversary. Her sister Sansa had planned a surprise party and managed to wrangle their siblings together, despite that they were flung to all corners of the continent, as well as what seemed like anyone her parents had ever come into contact with in their lifetime.  
  
They landed. Her seat up front in business class let her off the plane before the majority of the passengers and she had the customs pre-screening for her passport so she didn't have to wait in the long line at immigration. She pretty much knew the officers by name anyways, so they rarely kept her around for long.  
  
Her stomach let loose a loud rumble while she stood in front of the security guard, one of the regulars.  
  
"Think you better get some lunch, Miss Stark," he said, handing her passport back across the counter. "Welcome back to Kings Landing." He smiled, she nodded, and made her way through the tinted sliding door that she knew would lead her out to the main terminal, right between the Indigo coffee place and the Kings Landing Times newspaper, magazine, and snack shop.  
  
She walked straight towards Fossoways, her usual sandwich shop, only to find out that they were all out of the avocado for the sandwich she always got. She thanked the kid behind the counter and walked away, grumbling to herself.

  
_Plenty of other food here, yea?_ she told herself. Remembering the food court, she walked left and soon found herself standing, completely lost in the menu of some new place called Hot Pie's.  
  
It had a good-sized menu of sandwiches and wraps all made on home-made bread, biscuits, and whatever else, according to the sign and Arya for the life of her could not make a decision. She stood in the empty line chewing on her lip and making a face at the menu. _I hate making choices_ , she thought. _I hate menus at new restaurants, and mostly I hate when Fossoways has no damn avocados._  
  
A man's voice brought her out of her thoughts and back to the present.

 

"Overwhelmed?" It asked.  
  
She turned and looked to her right, but at her eye level she was staring straight at his chest, at a dress shirt pulled nicely across muscles. When she looked up, she was equally as pleased. He was attractive, but he didn't seem like he was aware of it or that anyone had ever remarked on it. He looked down at her for a second, deep blue eyes through black hair that was a bit too long and conflicted with his dress pants, button down, businessman-style of dress.

 

“Yea, menu's a bit confusing,” she replied, turning to look back up at the menu board.

 

“Actually, it's not that bad,” the man said, disagreeing with her. “You must not be from Kings Landing though, if you've never been to a Hot Pie's. They're on about every other corner nowadays.”

 

She whipped her head back to him fast enough that she thought she might regret it later. “I'm from Kings Landing! Well, not originally," she added quickly, "but I've lived here for six years.”

 

"You're tellin' me that you've lived in Kings Landing for _six whole years_ and you've not once been to Hot Pie's?” The incredulous tone in his voice was starting to get to her, not to mention the emphasis he'd put on the length of time.

 

“No, I haven't. Is that a crime? I guess I'm a bit too busy to check out every gods damned sandwich shop in the capital.” She took a deep breath. _Why is he smiling at me? Does he think this is funny? I do_ not _think this is funny._ “Are you gonna keep smiling at me or are you gonna tell me what to order? Since you know it so well and all.”

 

He shook his head, gave his suggestion, then walked up to the head of the line and ordered his. She followed him, told the lady the exact same sandwich he'd recommended – roast turkey breast, provolone, pesto, and roasted red peppers on crusty white bread – and waited for it to be made.  
  
She paused for a few seconds to take him in while he told the cashier what type of drink he wanted and paid for his food. Tall, maybe taller than Dad and Robb... shorter than Sandor though. Still really well built, not like any of the other twiggy guys she found herself hanging around. Immediately that Aegon Targaryen guy popped into her head and how she could beat him up in a heartbeat, how she almost had a few times when he'd kept insisting on buying her drinks. There _was_ something familiar about him, but, thinking about it a moment, decided to attribute it to the dark hair. It reminded her of Jon a bit.  
  
She was holding on to her wallet, waiting for the cashier to tell her the total, when he leaned over to her, holding the receipt he'd just been handed.  
  
"I, ugh... I think she rang us up together. Either that or I just ordered a $25 sandwich," he said, his voice just a touch above a whisper.  
  
"What? Are you serious? Crap, I'm sorry." She apologized, much more loudly than he had been. _Aww, shit fuck, this is awkward_. She opened her wallet, looking for some cash and coming up with nothing, save for a couple of Pentoshi banknotes, a concert ticket stub, and a movie ticket from about three years ago.  
  
"No, no, no. You don't have to pay me back.”

 

“Are you sure? I mean, we can just get the lady to --”  
  
"Is something the matter?" The young girl behind the counter asked.  
  
"Well, actually, I think you charged him for my order," Arya replied, not letting him tell her that nothing was wrong.  
  
"Oh, I'm so sorry! Are you not together? You look like you could be, that's all," she shrugged. "Sir, if you just give me the receipt I can sort this all out."  
  
"No, we'll be fine, miss. We actually don't even know each other, but it's alright, really. Thank you for offering though."

 

"Alright then. Ya know, maybe this is just one of those lucky chance encounters for you two." She nodded and walked away to help the next person coming up in line.

 

Arya had about half a second to blush awkwardly at her insinuation before he turned to face her. "Well, what do you say? Eat lunch together?" He stood in front of her, held up the bag filled with both their food in one hand and their two plastic bottles of soda in the other, like it was an offering, and he had a grin on his face that made him seem much younger than he probably was.  
  
Normally, she'd say no. Make a scathing joke about how she couldn't believe the cashier thought they were dating. But there was no 'normal' for this case, these sorts of situations don't happen. So, with nothing to go off of, over an hour before the flight would begin boarding, and no actual cash to pay him back, she made the only logical decision that came to her mind.  
  
"Ugh, yea, sure. Why the hell not? I don't make a habit of lunch with strange men but since we're past security I'll assume you've got nothing to hurt me with," she said, smiling, glad to see he was also smiling, picking up on her style of humor. "Besides, I've got an hour or so layover, it'll kill some time."  
  
They sat at a table on the outside of the food court, him spreading out their food on the table, and Arya going to find some napkins that were hiding as far away from them as possible. She dropped the stack on the table, and took off the black and white striped blazer, hung it on the back of the chair, then noticed he was staring at her chest.  
  
_Well, that's certainly a change. First one I've met that's wowed by my flat chest in a T-shirt._  
  
"Can I help you?" She smirked, sat down, cocked her head to the side and met his eyes.  
  
"Do you work for House of Black  & White? As in _the_ House of Black  & White? "  
  
She looked down to her shirt and remembered the company logo embroidered on it, as well as the large logo on her laptop bag.  
  
"This?” she asked, point to the logo. “Yup. Guilty as charged."  
  
"What do you do?" _He's excited, maybe a little star-struck even_ , she thought. _Not much to get excited over, especially me. I'm not the one selling out shows at Casterly Stadium._  
  
"Talent scouting," she answered nonchalantly, as if he'd asked her a mundane question about the weather. "Fly back and forth across the world looking for new acts to sign, watch a lot of free concerts, keep my ear to the ground for the new up-and-coming star, that sorta thing." She was gesturing in circles, still holding her sandwich in one hand.  
  
"Whoa, sounds like a pretty glamorous lifestyle."  
  
"Nah, it's not really. Don't get me wrong, it _is_ gods damn amazing, but I'm constantly in airports, on planes, sleeping in hotels, and I'm not sure of the last time I wasn't jet-lagged. If it wasn't for this damned tether," she said, holding up her smartphone, "then I'm not sure if I'd ever know what day it was. But shit, I love it. I wouldn't give this up for all the sapphires on Tarth."  
  
"You do know that there aren't actually sapphires--"  
  
She let out a loud sigh. "Yes, stupid. It's called a metaphor. All the snow north of the Wall. All the gold under Casterly Rock. All the whores in Lys. Are those a bit more concrete for you?"  
  
"I was just giving you a hard time," he said, flashing a smile.  
  
"Mutual." She returned the smile, not entirely sure why.  
  
"So, how'd someone that looks as young as you get this kind of job? Family ties?"  
  
"No, fuck you very much. I made this and everything I've got myself. And by the way, I'm not that young, I'm 24. But anyways, no, it's not a family thing. I started at Crownlands Tech University, they've got an excellent--"  
  
"Wait, you went to CTU too?" he interrupted excitedly. "I was 2008."  
  
"Hah, yea. Small world, eh? Then I'm sure you know they have an excellent sound recording program?"  
  
"You wanted to work for a recording studio?"  
  
"Yup. Pretty ever since I figured out what music was. Got an internship with Black  & White my fall semester of sophomore year and when it was done they offered me a job. I quit CTU and started working. Should've been class of 2012, but I've been working since I was 19... Much to the chagrin of my mother, but there's not enough hours in the day for _that_ particular story," she added with a smile that said she didn't give a crap. "What's your name anyways? I feel as I should know that if I'm gonna sit here and tell you my life story."

 

He nodded, finished chewing a bite of his sandwich, then reached down into his laptop bag and pulled out a silver business card case with a criss-crossing pattern etched into the top. She watched him slide the top card out and hand it to her across the table.

 

"Gendry Waters," he said as she took it. She gave it a good look over, noting that it was not a business card that'd been given to him in a box by the HR department at his job. There was no job title, company name, or fax line he'd never use. Name, address, phone number, personal website, and email address hosted at said website.

 

She reached in the pocket of her blazer she'd set on the back of the chair and handed him one of hers.

 

"Arya Stark," she replied back. "You've gotta tell me what you do now that you know about me... and ya know, your cryptic business card isn't helping any."  
  
"Oh yea, that thing. This is going to sound a little ridiculous, but I'm an artist." Arya couldn't help herself, she rolled her eyes and made a face at him. She supposed he knew what that meant by the way he started to explain. "Well, _sometimes_ I'm an artist. I guess you have to sell your art to be an artist, not just make it. That's what I was at CTU for at least. Now I work at the Westeros National Art Museum, you know, the big white building downtown right by the water? I try to keep some personal business cards on me, just in case anyone is interested in my own work, not the museum's. I work in special collections acquirement, so I guess I'm kinda like you, travelling all over the place, looking for art to introduce to the world, just with a different type of art."

 

"Wait, wait, I was just there a few weekends back. The special exhibit on the erotic art of the Summer Isles, that wasn't you, was it?" _Now I'm the one getting excited over the other's job_. The thought in itself was amusing.

 

"You bet your ass it was me! It was a tough job, I'll have you know. Spending five weeks traveling through remote, tiny villages on the Isles, but someone had to do it." He had a smug smile plastered on his face, but she found herself not blaming him for it. It was the same one that her sister Sansa said that Arya made when she had to listen to her talk about her job.

 

"The adventure sounds amazing. My job very rarely takes me off the beaten path. Not sure I could deal with the heat down there though. Even Dorne gets to be too much for me, hells, most of the time Kings Landing in the summer makes me wish for home."

  
"So where is home?" he asked, pausing in between bites of the salt and pepper chips he'd gotten along with his sandwich. "I've always been in the capitol. Pretty much the same neighborhood too, at least until I got this job."

 

"The North, Winterfell. Seems like my family's been up there since the beginning of time."

 

There wasn't much silence as they finished up their lunch. Despite that she spent most of her time around musicians, something that most people would see as the most interesting and exciting job they could have, Arya really enjoyed talking to Gendry about his work and his travels. She'd never met someone that had the same type of hectic lifestyle who wasn't in the same field as her. She wanted to know what exhibit he's working on currently, his favorite Aegon's conquest era sculptor, and what he thought of the new modern art that was coming out of Asshai. He showed off pictures with his own work, huge metal sculptures that needed their own space in a studio he rented, as well as pictures of him decked out like a National Geographic photographer standing in a fifty person villages speaking to village elders through a translator, holding an elaborately painted vase. In turn, she told him about the couple of bands she'd been working with recently, showed pictures of her with some popular artists, Daenerys Targeryen, a DJ who'd just debuted in Westeros after touring like crazy around Essos for years, and a new metal band she'd found, oddly enough, while on a weekend vacation with her older brother Jon in the Frostfangs.

 

They'd both finished their lunches a while ago and sat crouched over Arya's phone as she flipped through some pictures from her last trip to Dorne, when her phone let out a loud ringing noise and brought up a calendar app.

 

"Oh, crap. That's my 'fifteen minutes 'til boarding' reminder... And before you ask, yes, I do need to have one. You'd think all this flying would help, but I'm still shit when it comes to not being late for everything," she explained as she gathered up both their trash then stood up to put on her blazer.

 

"You won't be late. Come on, I'll walk with you down to your gate." He got up too, pulling his laptop bag over his shoulder and grabbing the handle of his rolling suitcase in his right hand.

 

"You don't have to do that. You've got a flight to catch too."

 

"Long layover," he quickly replied. "Stop worrying. Now, which gate ya headed to?"

 

She answered and they both made their way out of the food court and down to A35. They made small talk along the way, Arya still thinking it was unbelievable how much she was enjoying their conversation. She wasn't like Sansa. Sure, she could be marginally nice and cordial when it was necessary to get what was needed, from a band or someone that needed more polite conversation than her normal way of talking, for instance. But this wasn't the same. Her sister could have a fifteen minute conversation in the grocery checkout about oranges with the person behind her. _I wonder if this is normal for him, casually paying for people's lunches just to have someone to talk to while waiting for his next flight_. KLB is the biggest airport in Westeros, and you probably don't feel any lonelier than when you are here by yourself, surrounded a hundred thousand strangers.

 

They got to the gate quickly since the walk wasn't terribly long. She stopped abruptly, looking up at the screen behind the desk. Five more minutes and it'd be boarding for Winterfell. She glanced up at him for a second, but neither said anything. _Oh, crap. Deja vu. I know this feeling. This is that gods damned 'we just went out on a date and you're at my front door and it's now awkward' feeling_. It was a feeling she'd had a lot before, especially in high school, with her mother and sister often setting her up on dates that would end with those awkward side hugs and no calls back, thank the gods.

 

"So..." Arya started, letting her voice drift off.

 

"So... I, umm, I guess this is your stop. How come you didn't mention you were heading back home? With the way you talked about it, I'd think you'd be pretty excited."

 

"Oh, I am, it's just --" she started, but was interrupted by the loudspeaker.

 

_"Targaryen Airline flight number A541 with non-stop service to Winterfell will now begin boarding at Gate A35. We'd like to extend a warm welcome to our First Class and TargCard Platinum, Diamond, and Gold members for early boarding through the Priority lane. Also any passengers that will need extra time..."_

 

"...well, that's me. And yes, I'm excited to go home, but it's for a big surprise party. Parents' 30th anniversary. My sister set it up and knowing her half the bloody North'll be in attendance," she explained, shaking her head. "Anyways, I guess this is good-bye."

 

"Yea, I guess so," Gendry said, and Arya noticed that he sounded as unexcited as she felt.

 

"Hey! Don't sound so upset about it!" She said, smiling and punching him on the arm. _Not sure why I did that._ "I'm kind of a hassle anyways, especially since you paid for my lunch. And besides, we'll probably run into each other again. Sounds like we both live outta this damned airport anyways, yea?"

 

"You've got a point there, as pathetic as it sounds." He looked around before meeting her eyes, shifting his messenger bag on his shoulder, before holding out his hand. "I'll see you around then, Arya."

 

She'd moved to shake his hand as soon as he'd extended it towards her. She had a solid handshake which she was oddly proud of, but the same moment she met his hand was when he said her name, and she found that she liked the way it sounded when he said it. He looked straight at her when he spoke and said her name with a certain amount of purpose. It'd be the first time he'd said it since she'd introduced herself.

 

She forced herself out of her thoughts, shook his hand, maybe just for a little bit too long. She said goodbye, told him to have a safe flight, and watched him turn to walk away, eventually blending into the crowds of people.

 

She'd almost wished he could walk down the little walkway to the plane with her, like they used to let her father do when she was little and would fly alone. She most certainly wished that the person in the seat next to her didn't intend on talking to her for any of the flight. _How can some boring conversation with the bigwig business man next to me about his latest PowerPoint web conference meeting, or whatever it was they were always so busy with, possibly compare to the last hour?_

 

The flight attendant came by, asking each in business class if they wanted a drink before takeout. She ordered a black coffee, put her headphones on, and plugged her phone into the USB port in the armrest to charge, happy for the little perks that being able to buy the nicer seats gave her. She'd closed her eyes and leaned back into the seat, listening to the folksy-poppy acoustic sounds of the Manderly Sisters, one of the first acts she signed, when she felt her phone buzz in her lap.

 

 _Shit, I always forget to turn that off_ , she thought. _Probably just the regular Friday email from Jaqen letting the Kings Landing office in on what the Braavos office did all week. A man did always love to brag._

 

iMessage from: Unknown

 

She squinted her eyes at the phone, confused, and keyed her password in.

 

_Hi, Arya. This is Gendry. Ya know, that guy who just bought you lunch? Anyway, I know we said we would see each other around, but I want to make sure it actually happens. I'll be back through KLB on Monday, BRX on Wednesday, and back to KLB on Friday. Any chances for lunch?_

 

She smiled. A big, stupid Sansa Stark eating lemon cakes smile, a Theon Greyjoy seeing a pretty girl smile, a Rickon Stark playing with Shaggydog smile. She'd be flying from Winterfell to Kings Landing on Sunday and then for work she was in Braavos all next week, meeting with their offices there. Phone in hand, she quickly tapped out a reply and added his name to her contacts, remembering something that Sansa had said once about always waiting to return a guy's message, something she'd always ignored.

 

From: Arya Stark

There's always a chance for lunch. Maybe I'll even pay next time. I'll be in Braavos all next week for work. I know a great little place near Ragman's Harbor though.

 

From: Gendry Waters

It's not The Titan's Daughter, is it?

 

From: Arya Stark

Yes! Gods, I thought I was the only non-Braavosi to know about that little hole-in-the-wall. Crap, they're making us turn our phones off now.

 

From: Gendry Waters

That's fine. Enjoy your weekend. I expect to hear all about it at Titan's next week.

 

She flipped her phone into airplane mode and put it back in her lap, continuing to let it charge, continuing to try and erase the silly grin from her face. _I've gotta get this under control before I see Sansa... or Bran. They both can read me like it's their job._

 

She sat back against the chair again, concentrating once more on the music coming through her headphones. Arya enjoyed her time traveling, still always relishing the weekends that she could spend in Winterfell instead of alone in her condo in Kings Landing, but this was one of the first times she was going to be excited for a weekend in Winterfell to be over with.


	2. Chapter 2

The weekend at Winterfell passed by much faster than she had expected. There had been strict instructions emailed from Sansa weeks ago when she came up with this idea about where to go after the airport, when they'd meet up, everything. Dinner was arranged in Wintertown on Friday for her and her siblings that had come in from out of town. And, as much as she hated to admit it, her sister was excellent at this sort of thing. _How she planned all of this from Highgarden I'll never figure out._ The party went off without a hitch, her parents were amazed to see all their children and friends on the back lawns of the estate when they arrived home from their weekly Saturday lunch date, and Arya only had a few spare hours on Sunday morning to walk the woods with the dogs and her brother Jon before she had to get to the airport to head back to Kings Landing.

 

It was back to the airport the next day, barely enough time to get her laundry done and pack for a week in Braavos. She felt herself looking about KLB for Gendry while she was waiting for her flight, even though she knew he wouldn't be flying out of there until Wednesday morning. They'd texted back and forth a little bit to figure out their schedules once she'd gotten back to her apartment Sunday evening, but it hadn't been much more than logistics. She had the first flight out Monday morning to Braavos, arriving after lunchtime, and was very pleased to see that Mya Stone, another one of the talent recruiters whom she'd made good friends with during her internship, had volunteered to pick her up at the airport, instead of another man that she wasn't looking forward to seeing.

 

Work in the Braavos office was always hectic, especially in the evenings. Much of her day time was taken up with meetings with her bosses and the nights were reserved for entertaining prospective talent, negotiations, or her favorite part, just getting to see someone perform. Mya Stone, one of the first friends she'd made in the office, and Izembaro, one of their bosses, joined her when she took out the Janis Joplin lookalike on Monday evening, trying to show her that just because she was getting noticed by a big label that it didn't mean she was selling her soul to teen magazines and top 40 countdown radio shows. They were successful in the end and they met her the next morning at their offices to make it all official. Tuesday night she'd been asked to take this year's new intern out to a see a couple bands perform up by Purple Harbor. By Braavosi standards that area was mostly locals and although she had known about the show and had wanted to go anyways, she was less than thrilled to be some kid's chaperone and translator for the evening. Arya had noticed the girl as soon as she arrived in the office on Monday. She'd introduced herself to her, _Myrcella Baratheon, happy to meet you_ , in that same tone of voice that Sansa used, except Arya could tell that, unlike her sister, she didn't actually mean it. Arya did have to admit it though, when they got backstage afterwards, this girl, with her curly blonde hair, flower-printed dress, striking green eyes, and lone nose ring, which was probably the only rebellious thing she'd ever done, was adept at charming the pants off of a room full of sweaty guys from Norvos. In the cab ride back, Arya had asked her how she was able to keep her calm like that, when most of the new recruits, gender aside, would wet themselves and stumble over their words the first time they talked to a six-foot-five shirtless muscled metal god with a thick Norvosi accent. She answered politely about the training she'd gotten from the employee they assigned as her mentor, and how he'd been teaching her about keeping her calm and so on. Arya thought it was odd how she was talking, but it her square in the face when she realized Myrcella never said the name of her mentor, she only kept referring to 'a man.' Now it was her turn to use her training in hiding her thoughts.  

 

"Hey, Arry!" She turned around to see Mya half walking, half running over towards her as she made her way to the elevator. "What's the rush for? I think a bunch of us are getting lunch over at the street carts down by Moonsingers. Waif brought her car today so we're driving, though I'd rather walk all the way there than get in a car with that girl. She's proper scary on the road, that one."

 

"Sorry, Mya. Raincheck? I'm meeting a friend for lunch at Titan's." She pulled the messenger bag she'd been awkwardly holding back over her shoulder. Braavos almost always had a high likelihood of random downpours so she'd left her blazer at her desk and instead had on a yellow raincoat.

 

"Oh, I see how it is. Miss Stark's only back in Braavos for a few days and she's already ditchin' us for some diff'rent friends. Must be someone pretty important... maybe a friend that's a boy?"

 

"Ugh, yes. But no, _mother_ , he's not my boyfriend, which is none of your business anyways," she replied back, grinning at Mya. She'd tell her if he was her boyfriend, _which he wasn't_ , just like Mya had the habit of telling her any and everything that went on between her and whoever she happened to be seeing this week, usually with an amount of detail that she could've done without. Arya also had a sinking feeling that she'd be telling Mya all about today's lunch and how she met Gendry during dinner tonight.

 

"Fine then. Have a great lunch with your not-boyfriend boy friend."

 

Arya had already started to walk towards the elevator again, yelled her good-bye to Mya, and entered the elevator, not noticing who else was in there until the doors closed and she realized the button for the ground floor was already lit up.

 

"A girl has moved on."

 

She felt his breath on her when he said it, his slow calming voice way too close to her ear for the current status of their relationship.

 

She stilled immediately. _Shit, he surprised me. Stay calm, Arya_. "A girl had nothing to move on from." She turned to face him, angling her head up to look into his eyes, before taking the few steps back and leaning nonchalantly against the elevator wall, arms crossed on her chest, not once breaking eye contact.

 

"A man questions this. A girl had not moved on the last time she was in Braavos." _Jaqen fucking H'ghar, I wish the Others would take him sometimes_. A smug smile played across his face and she knew exactly what he'd been referring to. They'd been broken up for years at this point, and you could really only call what they'd done 'dating' in the loosest definition of the term. _Mya usually referred to it as "defiling the supply closet"_ , she remembered. They still fell back into their same routines each time she visited, even up to her last visit just two months ago.

 

"A man should know when to hold his tongue," she spat back at him, uninterested in playing his emotionless way of talking game anymore. "Or maybe he should find this year's intern to fuck? I know you're _so good_ at that. Oh, wait, is she not as interesting to you as I was? She certainly is pretty." Silence. This was what she'd wanted. "That's right, nothing to say." Arya was thankful that the elevator finally reached the ground floor at that moment. _The longest twelve stories of my life._ "Have a good lunch, Jaqen. I'll be back in time for the staff meeting," she said, turning to smile at him and head out into the lobby. It was always a good day when she was able to render him speechless.

 

There was a taxi stand right outside their offices and she could've easily gotten into any of the waiting cars, but she needed to try and calm down a bit after her encounter with Jaqen in the elevator. She knew she was getting upset in the elevator, but she wasn't sure why exactly. _Why do I care what he's doing with this year's intern? Besides, I'm only here every few months, it's not like he's going to be sitting and waiting for me to return to Braavos? I certainly wasn't doing the same_ , she thought. _But why do I feel so different about it now?_ She rounded the corner and saw one of the deep blue trolleys approaching the nearest stop.

 

The open-air trolleys that ran across the city would do much better to put her at ease. She always loved coming back here - the way it smelled like saltwater, the diversity of the people milling about the harbors, the commotion of a city so different from anywhere else she'd been - and she got to enjoy all of that on the trolley for a fraction of the price of a taxi ride. She could hear the common tongue, the one she'd grown up speaking, but more often than not it was a pidgin mix between common and the Braavosi dialect of Valyrian. She'd taken Valyrian courses all through middle school and high school, as was normal in most of Westeros, but it had been Jaqen who taught her how to speak like a true Braavosi, despite being from Lorath himself. It was Jaqen who'd showed her around Braavos during her internship, who'd taken her to the top of the Titan to watch the ships come and go. He taught her to haggle with street vendors selling grilled shrimp and scallops on long skewers, how to avoid pickpockets, how to blend in, and, one of the most important lessons, how to spot real raw talent at an open mic night or basement show. Sure, there were other things he'd taught her, how to be quiet when he'd pull her into a supply closet in the middle of the day between her meetings, never going under her clothes at work, but that hadn't mattered. Just the way he'd look directly at her, push that fucking absurd red hair out of his eyes, and tell her "Patience... a man will finish what he started later, lovely girl," before he left was enough for her. He soon taught her the key code to his apartment, a loft in a building that rose high above the canals that was much too cold, much too minimalist for her taste, but the large jacuzzi tub was always warm and that king-sized bed was--

 

 _Stop it, Arya. He's no one. A man can throw himself off top of godsforsaken Red Keep for all a girl, no, for all Arya Stark cares. You've got a lunch date._ She paused for a second, eyes wide as the trolley rounded a corner and headed closer to her stop. _Shit, is this a date? No, stupid, it's not. Seven bloody hells, what's with you today? All these crazy-in-love thoughts. Repeat - you are not Sansa. You are not Sansa._ She took a couple deep breaths as the trolley approached its stop, calming herself down gradually and also taking in the sweet smells of what she knew was cooking at the Titan.

 

The trolley came to a stop, making that normal screeching brakes sound that no one in Braavos seemed to try to fix, and she dropped the necessary coins in the machine at the front when she exited. There was a strong wind out today, which would've messed her hair up fantastically if she cared enough, but she was happy to see the rain was holding off for a while, even though it was still the normal overcast skies. The Titan's Daughter was a few doors down from the trolley stop. Named for a famous trading ship once owned by some distant relative of the current owner, it often looked like it'd seen worse days than its namesake even could've. Arya had no idea how it had passed building code inspections, but she was glad for it, since they served the best seafood stews and crusty breads this side of the Narrow Sea.

 

Gendry had already arrived, and stood up from the small two person table when he saw her come in the door, looking almost comically overdressed for his surroundings. He was just a bit more formal than he'd been last time, this time in a dark gray suit, pale blue button-down shirt, and a matching tie that looked like he'd loosened it up recently.

 

"Well now, don't we make a ridiculous looking pair," she said, sitting down across from him. She had pushed the hood of her raincoat off her head earlier when she realized it wasn't going to rain, and she began to work on the toggle buttons down the front of the coat.

 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

 

"Umm, don't know how to tell ya this," she started, looking up from where her hands were, "but you're dressed like a car salesman and I look like that fisherman on the frozen fishstick boxes."

 

He stopped for a second, taking a look at his clothes, over to Arya, then back to himself. He shrugged and replied, "Gods, you know you're right, don't you?"

 

"If makes you feel better, you're least sleazy car salesman I've ever met," she replied back, winking quickly at him.

 

"And you're much more attractive than the fishstick guy," he said.

 

She felt her face go red at the comment, before her mind caught up and found a way to snarkily reply back, "Thanks for the compliment, Gendry. Not hard though, considering the fishstick guy looks about sixty-five and has a beard."

 

He smiled in a way that, on anyone else, might have infuriated her. "Milady needs to learn to take a compliment."

 

"Is that so?" she laughed, "I'll tell you what milady needs to --"

 

Gendry luckily didn't get to find out, as they were interrupted by their waitress in Braavosi Valryian asking what they wanted, and as Arya opened her mouth to answer back, she was silenced when Gendry replied to her that they'd take two fish stews and two bottled waters, all in a Braavosi accent that was so fucking perfect she'd have thought he was raised here if she didn't know any better.

 

"What's the matter?" he asked, voice back to a normal tone for someone who'd been raised in the capital. "Did you not want the stew?"

 

She shook her head and blinked a few times before answering. "No, of course I wanted the stew, it's their specialty, but... I -- I just didn't expect you to speak fluent Braavosi, that's all."

 

He smiled again, another big toothy smile that made him seem much younger that he already was. "Have I impressed you?"

 

She thought about her answer for a second. _Oh, the hell with it,_ she decided, folding her arms atop each other on the wooden table and leaning forward. "Honestly, yes. Impressed _and_ surprised. I mean, I've always been sort of proud of my Braavosi, but fuck, Gendry... Any other languages you want to impress me with?"

 

He quickly answered, in some language that sounded like gibberish to Arya, but one head-tilt and sideways glance from her and he was laughing and answering that in addition to Common Westerosi, he spoke a few different dialects of Valyrian almost fluently, along with enough smatterings of tribal Summer Isles languages, Meereenese,and some Asshai languages to make his work easier when he ended up in those locations. They shared what they were working on during their respective business trips, Gendry promising to text some pictures of the oil paintings he was researching if Arya sent a video of whatever new band the kids seemed to like nowadays. Their stews came, huge bowls heaped with steamed clams, shrimp, and whitefish in a spicy tomato broth with potatoes and onions, which ended their conversation, each too excited by their favorite lunches. He rode the trolley back to her office with her, leaving her with a hug and an awkward goodbye on the street.

 

When he walked away and she looked up, she could've sworn she saw about three heads quickly turn away from the office windows.

 

What had started as a chance encounter and two lunches quickly turned into weeks and soon months of breakfasts, lunches, and sometimes dinners in almost all of the airports and cities around Westeros and Essos. Slowly, they began to find time in their schedules and started to work in what might have been construed as dates, if their relationship were anything like a normal one.

 

They met again in Braavos about seven weeks after their first time meeting there. Arya found out that, somehow, Gendry had never been up to the top of the Titan, and she was convinced that he had to go, only to learn once they were a thousand or so feet in the air looking out over the nighttime city lights, that he was afraid of heights. She'd held his hand that night, which seemed to be enough encouragement for him to walk out onto the viewing deck with her and let her point out all the various places in Braavos she knew, and he somehow forgot to let go of her hand once they were back on solid ground. When they got back to her hotel, he stopped her when she reached the top of the entrance, jogged up the stone steps until they were the same height, and kissed her, in full sight of the gods and men and everyone else that happened to be on the street in front of the Braavos Hilton that night. It nervous and chaste and seemed over before it started, but the hands she felt on her hips were firm and the look he shot her as he walked away only held one thing - the promise that it would happen again.


	3. Chapter 3

_Gods, I hope this is the right place_ , she thought as the taxi pulled up to the curb on the opposite side of the road. She calmly paid the driver, slipping in a couple extra dollars more than she'd normally tip, purposely to thank him for driving her all the way out here. _Shit, if I'd have known it was this far out of downtown I'd have asked the office to take a car for the weekend or rented a ZipCar for the day_.

 

This was the first time they’d done this – met somewhere that was personal. Airport terminals, hotel lobbies, hole-in-the-wall restaurants were one thing, but this seemed bigger to her. Getting to actually see what he’s like when he’s not on a two hour layover or has some downtime between meetings.

 

There didn't appear to be a doorman in this building like there was in hers, or even really a front lobby, and when she gave it a better look and closer inspection, it doesn't even look residential. As she looked around, she realized that none of the buildings in this area looked residential, or even inhabited. There were some she wouldn't have described habitable in the first place. The building in front of her looked like it housed some sort of factory, probably about fifty years ago, before most of the industry in this area moved to the new industrial parks that sprung up on the other side of the Blackwater. There was only one front door, which was unlocked and didn't fully close, and then only one elevator, the kind meant for freight. It was already on the ground floor, so Arya cautiously got in, almost not trusting it to hold her, slid the folding door closed, then easily reached the pull for the second door, thankful for the first time in her life that she was wearing heels and not her normal canvas Vans, or she’d probably have needed to jump to grab the door pull. She was glad that the meetings she needed to put on heels and pencil skirts for were few and far between.

 

She pulled her phone out to look at his text to double check the floor, and pushed the button for 9, noticing it was the highest one, before almost falling on her face when the elevator jolted alive, making her flail and grab the side railing. She steadied herself, finished the ride up, and let herself out of the elevator into a small hallway with only two doors, a very small one with a sign that read 'UTILITIES' and an oversized metal sliding door, big enough to fit a Range Rover through, with a large handle running floor to ceiling and a non-descript doorbell on the wall next to it.

 

 _Here goes nothing,_ she thought and rang the bell, startled by how loud the echo was on this side of the door. She heard some movement on the other side and at least a half dozen locks and latches being undone, and she let out a little breath of relief when it was Gendry sliding open the door.

 

“What did I do to deserve seeing you dressed up like this?”

 

“In your dreams, Gendry. I can practically see the boss-secretary fantasy you’ve got bouncing ‘round that head of yours right now.”

 

“Hey, a guy can dream, can’t he?”

 

“I guess I’ll allow _that_ much,” she replied. “Now, you gonna let me inside or what?”

 

He quickly stepped aside and ushered her in, her heels clacking on the hardwood floor as she followed. The space was enormous, just what she always pictured when she thought of industrial lofts, or when she spent way more time than she wanted to admit to looking at house tours on Apartment Therapy. She took her blazer off, shaking out any wrinkles and hanging it along with her purse on a large wood and rod iron coat rack next to the door.

 

“So, really now, you didn’t get all dressed up to come over here, did you?” he asked as she hung up her blazer. She followed behind him towards the kitchen area, a portion of two walls with tall cabinets and fancy appliances, bordered by an island with counter seating. She sat down in one of the stools and he poured her a glass of wine, a sour Dornish red he’d been saving.

 

“Big meeting downtown with some stuffy execs this afternoon. It’s over, thankfully, and now I’m starving.”

 

“You’re in luck,” he said. He grabbed a stainless steel slotted spoon of a spoon rest on the counter, lifted up the lid of a large ceramic pot and stirred the contents a bit. “Looks as though dinner is almost done. Just have to finish up the bread.”

 

“Look at you, regular Julia Child up in here.”

 

“Why do you say that?” he asked, barely turning around from the stove.

 

“Gendry,” she started, putting the wine glass down gently on the concrete countertop. She crossed her arms on the counter and leaned forward on them. “That’s a professional stove. It had to have cost at least five grand.”

 

“Hold on a second. You’re a House of Black & White talent scout _and_ a stove professional? Dreams do come true. ”

 

“Shut up. My parents have more money than they need.”

 

“Well, come on and help if you’re so familiar with it.” He turned away from her to shake some more spices into the pot.

 

“Familiar? Hah, good one. We had a cook.”

 

“Arya Lyanna Stark,” he said, coming back around to face her. “You get your butt down here and help me with this bread.”

 

“Gods, bossy much?” Arya snapped back, but her smile let him know she was just giving him a hard time. She pushed herself down off the bar stool and walked towards him, rolling up the sleeves on her button down shirt as she went. “I’ll help you, but you might regret the outcome.”

 

XxXxX

 

In the end, the bread was great, though Gendry kept a very watchful eye on it as Arya tried to carefully follow the recipe on his tablet, and even though she’d drunkenly eaten her way through more Bowls of Brown than she could count during her short time in university, she never thought she would find one quite as good as what Gendry had made.

 

“So, that’s cooking, speaking Braavosi, art… Is there anything you’re shit at?” Arya asked. She was thinking about writing a letter to Westerosi Test Kitchen to thank them for figuring out this Bowl of Brown recipe that he’d used; she was sure they were doing the gods’ work.

 

“You haven’t seen my art yet. At least not in real life. It could be awful.”

 

“Once you showed me on your phone, I may have looked up your portfolio on your website,” Arya admitted. She got up from table, taking both her plate and his over to the counter and setting them in the sink.

 

“Wanna see the latest masterpieces, Detective Stark?” Gendry asked. “Maybe we can even get something creative out of you.”

 

She turned to face him, leaning up against the counter for a second. A smile emerged on her face, and she stepped out of her heels, losing a good four inches of height. _Honestly surprised I kept those on all through my little cooking lesson._

 

“And here I thought you’d never ask.”

 

As she walked past the table again, she grabbed her empty glass and the bottle of wine, and made her way around the large curtain dividing the room, with Gendry quickly following behind.

 

XxXxX

 

"Create."

 

"What?” Gendry asked. He was giving this man a look of contempt, as if he was supposed to just up and make something. _Art_. “I don't know what to do."

 

"Bullshit. You've got plenty more tools here than you'll ever need. You need to start takin' all that fury ya go out on something besides the walls of that foster home. They'll send yer ass right on back to the state if ya try and pull that shit again, you know that, right, boy? And a fat load of good that’ll do. They’ll just push ya on to a new family soon as they can."

 

He nodded.

 

“So, you’ve got yer choice of what you wanna do here…” He went on, gave Gendry the five-cent tour of what the art rooms at Blackwater Community College had to offer. There was a room full of state-of-the-art computers and video equipment, ones that he expected for painting and drawing – what his simple mind thought of as art at the time, and then the one that would eventually catch his interest… a large room off to the side, ridiculously warm, with a sign on the door that read “Metalworking – Proper Safety Equipment Required” posted front and center.

 

“Yer angry – I get that. The world’s been shittin’ on ya for quite some time now, or so you feel. But, for Sevens’ sake, boy, you’ve only got fifteen name days under yer belt. Why doncha give life more of a chance before deciding it’s not worth trying?”

 

“And you’re not gonna bring up my mom?” he asked. “No guilt trips? No, ‘Gendry, what would your poor, dead mother think if she saw you right now?’”

 

The older man shook his head. “No. She’s gone. It’s all up to you now, kid.”

 

And for some unknown reason, Gendry listened. Listened to him and hung on every mispronounced word that streamed unceremoniously out of this mouth. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t preachy like the previous social worker, the skinny guy who passed him on to the next quicker than most of his foster families had. Maybe it was that this one seemed like he wasn’t going to take any crap, and he had the Flea Bottom accent to back it up.

 

Whatever it was, it worked.

 

XxXxX

 

"Why were you so angry?" she asked.

 

They’d moved outside onto the patio while he’d talked about Mott, his state-assigned social worker from when his mother died and he entered the foster system, until he was eighteen and was able to age out. The sun was still up a bit when they went outside, the patio offering amazing views of the city that only got better as the light dimmed and the glow from the city on the other side of the bay grew brighter as the sky darkened.

 

"Oh, lots of things. I remember my mum once said it was just in my nature, got it from my dad. Though I don’t think her dying, mixed with the foster system, abandonment issues, and generally being a shitty teenager helped any."

 

"Did you know him at all? Your dad."

 

"No. Not sure if he's alive or dead, if he's living halfway across the world, or if he's right down the street. That's probably where a lot of the anger came from in the beginning, at least that's what my therapy group leader says. Knowing that he knew about me and couldn’t care less. It just got worse after my mum died and I became the state's problem."

 

The light was dwindling and it was getting harder to see each other, but she hoped he was able to see the bit of a half-smile she gave him, which she meant to be reassuring. She wasn't sure though, so she closed the two or three feet in between them, shifting her glass from her left hand to her right, and taking a hold of Gendry's hand, squeezing lightly. A few moments of silence came and went, still holding hands and looking out over the city lights, before he spoke again.

 

"It doesn't freak you out, does it? That I still go to therapy?" He asked. By the tone of his voice it was apparent that he was not sure if this question was a smart one to ask.

 

"Nope," Arya replied nonchalantly, still looking out across the bay.

 

"Really?"

 

Arya turned to face him and found him looking down at her, searching for any hint of the normal sarcasm and joking that dominated their talks. "Really... my older sister went for a quite a while after a really horrible, abusive relationship finally ended. It was really good for her. She’s happy now. Has a good job, a new, astonishingly supportive girlfriend who even our mother doesn’t hate." She paused for a moment, finished the rest of the Dornish red in her glass, setting the empty glass down on the brick roof ledge. She let her hands find their way to his wrists, then followed up his arms and finally rested them around his neck, pushing herself up on her tiptoes and pulling him down to kiss her, wishing she still had her heels on to make her just a little bit taller. "So, no, Gendry, I'm not freaked out. Not in the least bit."

 

XxXxX

 

The first time they slept together isn't at all like she had imagined it'd be like. Through all of this, she'd had no delusions that their relationship was leading to sex, she knew it'd happen, gods knew she'd wanted it since the first time he'd kissed her outside the Braavos Hilton almost five months ago. All of her imagining told her it'd be some quick rendezvous in an airport hotel room in Dorne, or someplace like that. They would’ve paid the full night's rate, but would only make use the room for an hour or two between flights, maybe another quickie in the shower afterwards that would leave Arya without enough time to blow dry her hair.

 

Arya didn't particularly like being wrong, but she was glad of it this time. She'd been confused last night, when he'd guided her to the large king bed placed in the corner of his studio, not even slightly divided off from the art studio or the kitchen. He was a bit awkward about things like this, almost the same way she was, and she didn't say anything at first, not wanting to misinterpret the situation they'd gotten themselves into.

 

She'd been gradually shedding her clothing since her arrival. Her suit jacket came first, neatly on a hanger and hung on a coat rack next to the door, one that looked like he'd made it himself. They'd joked throughout the evening about how she was the one dressed up and he was the one casual, the exact opposite of all their other meetings. Her sleeves got rolled up when they were baking, then shoes came off right after dinner, and once she realized how messy his studio area was she quickly removed her button down, leaving her in a cream colored tank top.

 

They’d spent another couple hours out on the patio, watching the light come on in the city across the water, talking about nothing really important in particular, when they both seemed to notice the yawns that were becoming more frequent. With his simple, “You wanna call it a night?”, she’d nodded and followed him back inside. Once he returned the emptied wine bottle and glasses to the kitchen counter, he walked past where she was lingering a bit awkwardly, halfway between his bed and the kitchen, and simply grabbed her by the hand and led to bed. To sleep. And that was all.

 

The one downside to Gendry’s loft was the morning sunshine that came through the large windows, since there were no blinds or curtains to hide it. When Arya awoke the room was bright, and she squinted to see what time it was. She had flipped the covers off of her and started to push herself out of the bed, when she felt Gendry shift and roll over behind her, arm going around her waist to hold her in place.

 

“No… don’t leave, Arya,” he said, his voice groggy and a bit muffled.

 

“I’m not leaving, dummy,” she replied, lifting his arm up and off of her. “I just need to use the bathroom.”

 

She had a smile on her face when she returned a moment or two later, after a quick “you’re _finally_ going to have sex with him” silent pep talk in the bathroom mirror, and remembering she was wearing his ratty Guns ‘n Roses t-shirt that he’d given her last night to sleep in. She had made a mental reminder to give him shit about his pre-teen music choices later.

 

Strong arms came around her the second she got under the covers again, and she allowed him to easily pull her flush against him. She was strong, too, and she knew it, and could’ve easily pretended to fight against him, but she wanted this too badly by now to play hard-to-get. His right hand moved down her waist, following the slight curve of her hip upward, and then stilled on her thigh, past the point where the t-shirt’s hemline fell.

 

“Is this alright?”

 

She could’ve been sarcastic, definitely would’ve been if it’d been Jaqen asking a question like that. Told him to read the signs, something like that… but ruining whatever this moment was? _Not worth it._

 

“Gods, yes,” she replied.

 

XxXxX

 

After months of being comfortable, of not worrying, of simply enjoying whatever it was that was unfolding, the inevitable happened - at least what Arya always assumed was the inevitable in her relationships. Since the first time she’d spent the night, or rather, the whole weekend, at his place she’d been back there numerous times, enough that her welding skills were actually getting better. He’d visited her place a few weeks after that first weekend, the definitive opposite of his loft. Arya had to stop herself from laughing as they made their way from the street to her door, watching Gendry in awe of all the amenities her building had. It was a one bedroom condo in a financial district high rise, with a 24-hour manned reception, fitness center, and laundry service. He could easily imagine the way the inside of all the other condos looked – sparkling clean countertops, bowls of fresh fruit on the kitchen table, professionally decorated living rooms full of modern furniture. Gendry was glad to see that Arya’s unit, while being mostly clean, had hoodies left over the backs of her kitchen chairs, and old issues of Rolling Stone lying on the coffee table… and a hallway full of framed first albums for some of the artists she had signed.

 

It was a normal weekday morning at Casterly Rock International. His flight to Dorne left first that day, so they sat together, waiting at his gate and finishing up the takeaway breakfast he’d bought for both of them.

 

"So, I was thinking..." Gendry started. They’d just called over the intercom for anyone needing assistance to board now, so he knew he didn’t have much time to talk.

 

"Oh wait," she laughed. "You've been thinking?"

 

"Arya..." he said, drawing out that last syllable of her name and using his 'come on now' tone of voice.

 

"Sorry! What were you thinking about?" she asked. She crossed her left leg over her right, leaning forward on her arms, as if to act like she was really intrigued.

 

"I was thinking...," he started, "…that next time you go up to Winterfell for a weekend, which'll probably be soon, I know you haven't gone for a while, that I'd like to come with you. Meet those parents and siblings you talk so much about."

  
She unfolded her legs and sat back against the chair. "Well, I guess we could. But I mean, crap, Gendry, why would you want to meet my family? It's not like we're seriously dating or anything, ya know?"

  
"'We're not seriously'...," he repeated back to her, pushing a hand back through his hair. He sounded exhausted all of a sudden. "What exactly do you think this is, Arya?"

  
"What exactly do _you_ think this is?"  


He nodded slowly. "Apparently a lot more than you do."  


In what seemed like slow motion, but probably only took half a minute, she stared in shock as he picked up his laptop bag, pulled his rolling suitcase around, and rested his hand gently on her shoulder, before nodding again and walking away until he faded into the crowd that was boarding the plane.

 

Arya knew immediately that she'd messed up, forgot to keep the filter set on that sharp tongue of hers. She half-expected, or rather hoped, that he’d come back in a moment. That he’d just gotten up to throw his breakfast trash away in the nearby bin. That he’d come back to her and say he wasn’t serious that _they_ were serious and that –

 

_Wait, no. What the fuck am I saying? He’s heard about my family for months and of course they can meet him and…_

 

“Shit,” she said aloud, wincing for a second when she saw the stern look she received from the mother sitting across from her. She stood up, grabbing her rolling carry-on suitcase with her left hand, and scanned the area by the gate. All she was able to see was about half a second of his navy blue suit before he disappeared down the jetway to the plane.

 

An image of her quickly passed through her mind, one that included her dropping her bags to run full tilt towards the jetway, pushing past the lady scanning tickets, stopping him and kissing him senseless to erase his memory of the stupidity of her previous statements… until she realized that was probably the quickest way to get herself banned from flying in Westeros ever again. She was stuck with not being able to communicate with him for the rest of the day, and had no idea what sort of conclusion he would have come to by the afternoon.

 

She grabbed her phone out of her pocket and browsed through her contact list, looking to get advice from anyone that would listen to her.

 

Jon Snow. _Good idea, but no. I’ll get a lecture about not dating 'til I'm 45._

Margaery Tyrell. _She'll just pass the phone to Sansa, and that’s the last thing I need right now._

Jaqen H'ghar. _Oh gods, that’s only saved so I can ignore it._

Mya Stone. _That's the one._  
  
Mya hardly ever answered her phone with what would be considered a proper greeting. "You'd better be callin' me to talk all about that boy o' yours, Stark. I do enjoy hearing about all the airport rendezvous you have."

 

"Mya? I think I just did something really stupid to Gendry. Like, the stupidest fucking thing I've ever done."

 

"Oh gods, Arya, what did you do?" She lowered her voice, most likely still at the office. "Shit, you're not pregnant, are you?"

 

"What?! No, not that. Everything was great and we were just talking, yea? Waiting on his flight out and he had to go and be all stupid and ask if he could come to Winterfell next time I go. Winterfell, Mya! He wants to come to gods fucking Winterfell and meet my family... and then I had to go and run my damn mouth and say that we weren't serious, so I didn't know why he'd wanna do that..."

 

"Arya, you can't possibly feel that way. I've had to listen to you for months now blab on about this amazing guy. Quite sickening, actually. You know damned well why he wants to meet your family. Why would you say that?”

 

“I just... I don't know, Mya! I think I got scared. I don't have relationships like this, ones that go well, ones that work out. My relationships are shitty and doomed, and usually I just end up fucking Jaqen since I know he’s down for it and... seven hells Mya, I think I might love Gendry..."

 

"Of course you fuckin' love him, you twat! He's all you talk about! You spend all day texting him when you think none of us are looking… and don’t think I haven’t noticed what the background on your phone is."

 

"Shit, shit, shit…,” Arya said. She’d walked farther away from Gendry’s gate, which had completed boarded by now, and upon finding an empty section of wall, leaned against it and sank down to the floor. “What am I supposed to do?"

 

_First things, first. Don't cry in the airport, Arya. I will not cry in the airport..._

 

"Okay, calm down. You're at Casterly right now, yea? Heading to Highgarden?" She asked, though she knew the answer. "Where's loverboy headin' to next?"

 

"Dorne. Plane just taxied away from the gate.”

 

“Direct?”

 

“No. He’s got a two hour layover in Kings Landing. I don’t think he gets to Dorne until like eight tonight.”

 

“Okay, here’s the plan,” Mya began. Arya could hear her feverishly typing in the background. “I’ve cancelled your flight to Highgarden.”

 

“What?!”

 

“Just listen up, Stark. There’s a direct flight to Dorne leaving in a half hour, gate B17. There’s one first class seat left and now it’s yours. You’ll get there an hour and a half before Gendry. You’ve got your iPad with you, yea?” she asked.

 

“’Course I do,” Arya replied, curious as to where this was headed. She stood up and grabbed her carry-on again, double-checking the nearest sign to see if her new gate was right or left. _Left_.

 

“Good. Now, for the real ideas…”

 

She turned and hustled towards the new gate number, thankful that she only had her carry-on luggage. Weaving her way through the busy terminal, she listened closely to the plan that Mya was hatching and found herself smiling as her friend quickly came up with an idea. _An idea which might actually work,_ she realized.

 

XxXxX

 

His plane arrived as scheduled, and once the wheels touched ground he instinctively pulled his phone out of this inner jacket pocket, quickly taking it out of airplane mode. There were a dozen or so new emails for work, which he ignored for the time being, a Facebook invite to the opening of a new Lhazareen exhibit at the contemporary museum in Kings Landing, and a text from his younger cousin Shireen asking about his upcoming weekend trip to see her at Dragonstone. She’d promised him that there was more to the island than dismal architecture and harsh landscapes, but he’d believe it when he saw it.

 

Gendry was honestly surprised there wasn’t a voicemail or text message from Arya. _Maybe she actually doesn’t care?_ he wondered. _No, no. She had a flight to Highgarden. She was probably too busy to call._

_You did leave her rather abruptly._

_Shit._

_I’ll call her once I get to the hotel_ , he told himself. _She should be in Highgarden by then. We can try to sort this mess out._

 

He gathered his laptop and camera bags from the overhead bin and filed out of the plane. Every time he saw how little Arya was able to travel with he’d get jealous, especially each time he mindlessly followed the signs to baggage claim, standing and waiting for his suitcase to come around the corner of the carousel, praying to the Seven that it wasn’t lost, mistakenly flown off to Asshai or something like that.

 

He rode down a set of escalators and walked through the translucent sliding doors, eyes immediately going up to the row of hanging flat screen TVs, trying to quickly find the number of the luggage carousel he needed.

 

There were always group of people waiting there to pick up their friends or family, or those hired drivers with someone’s last name on a paper sign, so Gendry didn’t notice right away that something was a little different.

 

“Hey, Arry, isn’t that him?”

 

 _Arry? As in Arya?_ It was a male voice he didn’t recognize.

 

“Yes, now be quiet Ned,” Arya answered, and was met with Gendry turning on his heels to face her.

 

“Arya, what… how did you get here?” he asked, eyes lighting up like there was no trouble earlier, flicking back and forth between her and tall blonde man standing next to her. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Highgarden?”

 

“Um, yea… so you see, about that…” she started, and Gendry watched questioningly as her friend elbowed her and gave her a stern look. “After our… disagreement in Casterly this morning I realized I couldn’t leave you hanging like that, thinking I didn’t care about you at all, so I called a good friend who helped me with some new flight arrangements and a great idea,” Arya explained.

 

“You didn’t have to do anything, I was going to call you tonight and –”

 

“No,” she interrupted, reaching out and taking both of his hands in hers. “I was an idiot. You can come to Winterfell with me whenever you want. Hells, Gendry, you can come without me and I’m sure they won’t care.”

 

Arya paused, flashed a quick at her friend, and they both moved out of the way, revealing a row of four iPads, each propped up on a music stand, with smiling, and a little bit confused faces crowding the screens.

 

“Family, this is Gendry… and Gendry, this is my family, and some friends and neighbors too, apparently.”

 

A loud resounding chorus of greetings poured out through the speakers. He stood there next to Arya as she smiled, pleased with how stunned he was. He bent down a bit so they could see him better and Arya’s friend quickly adjusted the height on a couple of the music stands.

 

“There’s quite a lot of us, so this might be a good way to meet everyone at once. We’re hardly all together now, except for on Winter Solstice and Unification Day… oh! You should definitely come up north for U-Day, the camping is amazing,” she explained to him. “This first one is from our house in Winterfell, and that’s my parents, Ned and Catelyn, my oldest brother Robb and his wife Jeyne, my youngest brother Rickon, and somehow Robb’s friend Theon is here too.” Everyone waved and said their hellos, her father comically unsure of where to look on the screen.

 

“This next one is from Highgarden, actually. My older sister Sansa and her girlfriend, Margaery.”

 

“Ooh, good job, Arry. This one’s hot,” Margaery said, and then was quickly elbowed by Sansa. “If you like that manly sort of thing.”

 

“The next one down, the one that looks like it’s a dorm room, is actually a dorm room,” Arya said. He could tell the three people were sitting on the bottom of a bunk bed, able to see the metal springs under the top mattress by the way the camera was tilted. “This is my younger brother Bran – he’s a sophomore at the university in Greywater right now. And that’s his girlfriend Meera and her brother Jojen. They’re both really good family friends, their father was in the war with ours, and we have our holidays together a lot.

 

“And the last one, is my cousin Jon and his wife, Ygritte. I think I was telling you more about them just last week, yea?”

 

“Oh, that’s right,” Gendry said. He probably could’ve picked Jon out as a Stark just by going off of Arya’s looks. “Arry’s told me about you. You’re stationed up north of the wall, aren’t you?”

 

Jon nodded. “That’s right. I’m glad the internet connection up here is working well enough for Arya’s little plan.”

 

“Oh, by the way, since we’re all for introductions and all,” Arya’s partner in crime started. He offered his hand out to Gendry. “I’m Ned Dayne. I work for Black and White’s office in Dorne. Mya called me up to enlist me…and our office’s iPads… for her scheme.”

 

“I’m really… surprised?” Gendry shrugged. “Actually more like, astonished about the logistics of everything. How did you pull this off so fast?”

 

“That’s just it. I knew I had to do something fast. The moment I realized you’d gotten on that plane… it hit me that I might’ve fucked everything up and it’d be the last time I’d see you. I talked to Mya and realized that this isn’t just a fling for me, it’s real… and maybe that’s what scares me, but I can work on that. I _want_ to work on that. I’ve never been serious with anyone before, hells, I’ve never waited that long to sleep with someone before and...”

 

Arya was interrupted by loud coughing and throat clearing from the Bran/Meera/Jojen screen, a ‘gods be good, young lady’ look from her mother, and her father covering his face with her hand.

 

“Sorry, dad. See, Gendry? I say really dumb things all the time.”

 

“She really does.”

 

“Rickon!” more than one voice chided.

 

“... and what I’m trying to say with is that I love you, and I didn’t want something stupid that fell out of my mouth to ruin everything we’ve got. I don’t know when you’ll have the chance to meet everyone, and this seemed like the best way at the time and-”

 

“You love me?”

 

She began to nod her head, that yes, he’d heard her correctly, but she barely got the chance to open her mouth to reply before he bent down to kiss her.

 

“Alright, kids, time to get a move on, no one wants to watch this,” Ned said, tapping them on their shoulders to bring them apart after what he had determined was more than enough public airport kissing time. “Stark family, I think this is where you sign off.” They yelled their good-byes, as Ned exited the apps on each iPad and gathered them up in his bag.

 

“So,” Gendry started, grabbing his carry-on with his left hand and taking Arya’s hand in his right, then leading her towards the luggage carousel, “You up for dinner? I know this great little place in downtown Sunspear that’s –

 

“It’s not the Sandship Café, is it?”

 

“Of course it is,” Gendry replied, squeezing her hand. “One of these days I’ll find a hole-in-the-wall that you’ve haven’t been to yet.”

 

“You’re on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No update for a year and a half? Good job, Jessica... but at least it is finally done :)

**Author's Note:**

> The idea of a random guy paying for someone's breakfast by accident in an airport and then eating with her is actually what happened to me flying through Atlanta in 2014. Can't make this stuff up.


End file.
